


Subterfuge

by tristinai



Series: Relationship: Gavin Reed - [REDACTED] [3]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anti-android sentiment, Ass-eating, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Conditioning, Dom/sub Undertones, Humiliation, M/M, Manipulation, No Aftercare, Not A Happy Ending, Slapping, Unhealthy Relationships, Unresolved Emotional Tension, bludgeoning, erotic asphyxiation, one-sided Convin, one-sided Reed900, serious injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 10:34:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19149283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tristinai/pseuds/tristinai
Summary: As Nines' control over Gavin becomes more cruel through calculated neglect, Gavin begins to crack. Suddenly, he's not so sure this is what he wanted.





	Subterfuge

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting on my computer for so long that I will be honestly surprised if anyone remembers this series. Due to the popularity of the [Bad Decisions](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1280879) series, I had to put completing this on a long hiatus. Ideally, this series was always intended to be told in four parts, with an alternating POV. Thus, my hope is that it will conclude with Nines' perspective and that his motivations/behavior from this part will be explored in the next.
> 
> Special thanks to [NixObscura](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NixObscura/pseuds/NixObscura) for taking an interest in this series and for encouraging me to finish this. I don't believe the direction I have taken it in will be your cup of tea but I still appreciate the motivation :).
> 
> A strong warning that this series was never meant to explore a healthy, romantic relationship between Gavin and Nines. Very little of what I write usually does. This series explores an **unhealthy relationship** by incorporating elements of **abuse, neglect, and denial**. Read all tags carefully before proceeding.

The resounding clap of contact echoes in the room, pain flaring across sun-kissed skin. Stormy eyes water and he holds back the cry lodged in his throat, even as he feels his cheeks redden from the repeated punishment they’ve received in the last few minutes. He’s regarded with a gaze so cold, it makes him tremble, pierces into him with an intensity that exposes every insecurity he’s hidden behind the pretense of confidence he projects to the world. It makes him want to look away but experience has taught Gavin a valuable lesson when it comes to Nines: **obey.**

 

And he’ll be fucked—and not the kind of _fucked_ he wants—if he so much as breaks the command given at the start of the evening.

 

“Do you understand why I’ve come this evening?” Nines asks, flatly, white metallic fingers touching the bruising they’ve inflicted on Gavin’s face. The touch is tender but it may as well be hotter than the sun’s flames, irritated flesh blazing at the contact.

 

When Gavin offers no answer, the back of the android’s hand strikes against his other cheek. Gavin has to bite down hard on his tongue to keep from crying out, blinking back the tears that pool in his eyes.

 

Though the android is unable to express anger, Gavin knows his partner well enough to tell when the fuse has snapped. There’s an odd twitching of Nines’ lip, a dead giveaway that looks almost twisted on his handsome face, an expression that’s made the most hardened of criminals want to piss themselves during an interrogation. His gray eyes can’t quite narrow so they blink instead and it always makes Gavin’s blood run cold, the fear of angering the android enough that it almost makes him forget the boundaries Nines had set when he made Gavin strip and kneel on the floor, hands bound tight behind the detective’s back.

 

Almost, but not quite.

 

Roughly, the android shoves two fingers into the choker Gavin wears, curling them around the leather and yanking Gavin forward. His knees scrape against the cheap carpet and he knows it’s gonna leave some wonderful, fucking burns.

 

“I asked you a question, Detective.”

 

With the fingers pressed against his Adam’s apple, Gavin attempts to vocalize an answer but ends up gurgling instead.

 

“I didn’t give you permission to speak.”

 

Somehow, the constricting monotone makes Nines sound more ominous than if he had been able to snap at his partner.

 

Tears escape the corner of Gavin’s eyes and he nods, weakly.

 

Satisfied, the android unhooks his fingers and Gavin slouches, inhaling deeply. Humiliation has a blush spreading across his cheeks and in his panic, he’s half tempted to spew every pathetic apology he can utter. He’s done this before, broken one of Nines’ rules: and the merciless android had left Gavin with the most painful hard-on in his life and proceeded to ignore him for the remainder of the weekend.

 

So Gavin holds his tongue.

 

“You’re being rewarded,” Nines explains and the detective feels relief wash over him, “for your performance today. You are well aware of how much I value efficiency and it was your quick thinking that ensured we apprehended the suspect. You presented a variable I hadn’t considered and for that, I have decided the most appropriate course of action is to express my admiration of your abilities in a way you would find most gratifying.”

 

Still fully clothed, Nines leans down, flicks out his tongue to swipe at one of the tears. Gavin shivers as he feels it drag across his cheek.

 

“You did good today, Detective,” Nines adds and it makes something warm curl in the detective’s chest. He rarely ever got praise from the android. “But you mustn’t let it get to your head. We can’t have you reverting back to your previous behavior.”

 

His eyes flicker down to Gavin’s chapped lips and the detective finds himself self-consciously wetting them. For a moment, his pulse picks up, anticipation making his lids flutter half-closed. It’s been so long since Nines has kissed him—not since the first time they fucked all those months before—and it leaves him suddenly starved, desperate to relive what it felt like to have them hungrily claim his.

 

But Nines pulls away and Gavin has to tell himself he’s not disappointed.

 

Nines never kisses him. And Gavin’s made his peace with that. It’s the kind of stupid shit couples do and while Nines has made it clear he will only continue to fuck Gavin so long as Gavin doesn’t touch anyone else, that hardly makes them anything more than two guys looking to get off.

 

“Stand up.”

 

Gavin complies.

 

Nines takes the spanking cane from the bedside table. He uses the leather loop end of it to tilt Gavin’s face up towards his and those icy eyes blink, dark lenses slipping into place. The detective is suddenly staring into a pair of brown eyes not dissimilar from the ones possessed by RK900’s predecessor.

 

Gavin knows what game Nines is playing.

 

“You had once expressed a strong, sexual attraction to RK800. To Connor,” Nines says, pausing as he says his predecessor’s name. He watches the detective’s expression, most likely performing a scan to see what effect those two syllables have on Gavin. His increased heart rate and the sudden flush in his cheeks are a dead giveaway. “Are you still attracted to my predecessor?”

 

Gavin’s not a fucking idiot, though his self-destructive tendencies may make most people question such a statement. He has some shred of self-preservation and decides against lying, even if it’s something that will displease his partner.

 

He nods, albeit, with trepidation.

 

Nines’ lips pull, trapped somewhere between a scowl and the neutral expression he’s always wearing. The coldness in his eyes is made all that more sinister in how out-of-place it would look if Connor attempted such an expression: Connor’s anger is fueled by fire, burning and blazing all in his path. Nines, on the other hand, is a raging winter storm that freezes everything beneath his touch. A jealousy that will gladly leave a trail of bodies to reassert his claim on anything he decides in _his._

 

And fuck, if it doesn’t have Gavin’s cock dripping onto the ruddy carpet, knowing how much Nines owns his fucking ass.

 

“You will pretend I am RK800 for the remainder of the evening,” Nines says, a static edge to his voice as he says Connor’s model number. “You have permission to utter his name, and any variation of it, throughout intercourse. Under no conditions are you to indicate that the one pleasuring you is anyone other than Connor. Is that understood?”

 

Surprised, Gavin’s eyes widen. But as he feels the leather cane press against his chin impatiently, he nods.

 

“And I will add one more condition, if we are to continue: the new safe word is ‘Nines’. Do you accept those terms?”

 

Suspicion has him hesitating but Gavin nods.

 

“I require verbal consent.”

 

“Yes,” Gavin says.

 

“Yes, who?”

 

“Yes, Connor.”

 

He doesn’t miss the brief cycling of red at the android’s temple but his answer seems to reluctantly satisfy Nines. He uses the leather rod to indicate to the bed. “Bend over the edge of the bed with your legs spread.”

 

Gavin does as he’s told, inhaling sharply as his sensitive, untouched cock rubs against the bedspread. He’s so fucking hard, it takes all of his willpower to not rut pathetically against the bed and he plants his feet firmly on the floor. A hand comes to his waist, synthetic fingers firmly gripping him as ‘Connor’ pulls Gavin’s hips back, repositioning him.

 

Asshole’s as unforgiving as ever as what little relief his dick had is now gone.

 

“Do you want me to fuck you, Gavin?”

 

The leather rod trails up the back of the detective’s thigh. Gavin whimpers when he feels the flat end of it press against the back of his balls.

 

“You know how much it pisses me off when you don’t answer.”

 

A warning.

 

“Y-yes.”

 

“I have often found your volatile behavior to be a detriment to the progress my partner and I make in our cases,” ‘Connor’ says, the rod slapping lightly at Gavin’s ball sack. A white hot sensation curls in his abdomen, his fingers digging into the bedsheets. “It should come as no surprise to you that I find your lack of professionalism and petty jealousy towards the lieutenant deplorable.”

 

Without warning, the rod smacks across Gavin’s ass and the detective pitches forward with a cry, knees hitting the side of the bed. He hears the android make a sound of displeasure, forcing the detective back once more into the position he had been in. And though he knows he’s running the risk of angering the android by not remaining in place, Gavin’s legs are left shaking through the pleasure and pain that’s coursing beneath his abused flesh.

 

“I gave you simple instructions and you can’t even follow those. You’re proving to be as disappointing in the bedroom as you are at a crime scene.”

 

And ‘Connor’ strikes him once more. This time, harder.

 

Gavin can already feel the welts burning on his cheeks and imagines that they are as red as his face, which he buries into the sheets. He flinches as another vicious blow marks his skin, spittle staining the bedding as he cries out into it. ‘Connor’’s voice may lack the irate edge he often addresses Gavin with but there’s no denying that every word rings with an unvoiced truth: Connor’s long made his disapproval of Gavin known and detests him.

 

That, in it’s own fucked up way, is why Gavin still finds he jacks off to the asshole every now and then, even if Nines has become that fucking good at making him come undone every time he puts his hands on him.

 

“I cannot comprehend what possible appeal any potential partner would find in you,” and fuck, Gavin can picture the venom that line would be delivered with, the disdain that would be dripping in Connor’s condescending tone, “besides your professional shortcomings, your anatomical ones leave a lot to be desired.”

 

He can’t be sure if that’s an insult towards his height or his dick. Knowing the clever fucker, it’s probably both.

 

“Small dick jokes?” Gavin sneers because he can’t fucking help it: he loves dishing it as much as he receives it. “Is that the best your plastic ass can—?”

 

He shouts as he receives three strikes in succession, each precise and hitting the same spot. It’s hard enough that he can only barely keep his balance, the ache inside of him building and building against a dam that’s threatening to burst. His toes curl into the carpet and he swears if that selfish fuck tried touching him, he’d be coming hard within seconds.

 

“Do you always need to utter every piece of nonsense that passes through that empty head of yours? The only sound more gratifying than silence is your submission.”

 

He flinches, expecting to feel the rod against his ass again. Instead, a hand caresses the welts, the sting of the sensation making colors burst behind the detective’s closed eyes. He imagines the patterns that no doubt will appear stark against his skin, ones that he’ll feel for days every time he sits at his desk and shudders, catching Nines’ domineering gaze that says, _I put those there._

 

He’s in so god damn deep.

 

He hears shuffling behind him, the sound of ‘Connor’’s knees hitting the carpet making a hot trill race along his skin. Hands part his cheeks, a forced exhale tickling his pucker and it’s all the warning the detective has before a soft tongue is circling around his hole.

 

“Oh, fuck,” Gavin whimpers, voice rough.

 

His hands strain against the restraints, desperate to grip at the bed sheets, knees buckling and only just keeping him from collapsing on the bed. That tongue—that fucking tongue that he’s sworn on more than one occasion will someday be the fucking end of him—teases him open, licking and slurping voraciously until his hole is drenched. Ni— _Connor’s_ relentless, the perverted fuck salivating all over Gavin’s pucker and leaving a wet trail of synthetic spit dripping onto the back of his balls.

 

“F-fucking don’t stop,” the detective moans, pressing back into the android’s face.

 

“Do you submit to me, Gavin?” a voice asks and he can only groan helplessly when that tongue leaves him, a finger teasing against his entrance.

 

He tries to push back onto it, wants it to sink into him, wants to feel some part of Con— _Nines—_ inside of him because, fuck, he may still find Connor hot as fuck but he knows that it’s _Nines_ and he wants the android to tear into his ass and fuck him so hard, he can’t see straight.

 

He wants him.

 

He _wants_ Nines.

 

And if he wasn’t so fucking desperate for release, he’d be reeling from the revelation.

 

“Have you forgotten what I said earlier about not answering?”

 

The finger presses in up to the first knuckle, curling behind that first ring of resistance, and Gavin moans weakly, rutting his leaking cock against the side of the bed.

 

“F-fuck. P-please,” Gavin whines and he can’t bring himself to care about how wrecked he sounds.

 

Nines thrusts it in and the burn of it has him nearing the threshold, a sensation of ripping at the seams of his control making him cry brokenly into the blanket. His walls stretch around the intrusion and he knows he can’t hold on much longer.

 

“I asked if you submit to me, Detective?”

 

The crackle of static on the last syllable has fire exploding in Gavin’s veins.

 

“Y-yes,” Gavin answers pushing back onto the android’s finger. He’s so heady with _need_ , on the precipice of sating the ache, that he doesn’t think of what he’s saying, drool dripping down the side of his face, cock hitting the edge of the bed. “F-fucking, yes, Nines, fu—!”

 

He shouts as he cums, liquid heat bursting in his abdomen. White threads of pleasure paint his bedspread as he ruts and empties himself, colors exploding behind his eyes. He rides the waves of euphoria, rope pulled taut at his wrists, the burns they leave making his bliss spike until he half expects to pass out. Instead, he’s left with a dizzying sensation not unlike when he’s halfway between waking up and falling right back asleep, as rare as those moments are.

 

Coming down is rough, his voice ragged, pulse racing as he presses down onto the mattress. Cum sticks to his side and he knows he’ll need to change the bedding—a cynical voice reminding him he’ll probably neglect it unless he knows Nines is stopping by because the android refuses to fuck Gavin in his own ‘day old filth’. He feels the bindings loosen from his wrist, the sudden freedom reigniting the sting of the abrasions left by the ropes.

 

Wasting no time, he clumsily pushes off the bed and drops to his knees, the rush from being bent over to sitting making his head spin. He shakes off the sensation, tepid fingers reaching for the buckle on Nines’ jeans, only to have his hand slapped away.

 

That’s when he looks up at Nines and notices the red blazing at the android’s temple.

 

_Fuck._

 

“You said the safe word. I have no choice but to end this before it escalates,” Nines says, in his monotonous voice. The violent blinking at the side of his face is all the evidence Gavin needs for how angry the android is. “I bid you a good evening, Detective.”

 

He turns on his heel, a few quick strides and he’s already out of the room. Gavin’s left kneeling, dumbfounded, before his body catches up with his brain and he’s standing on shaking legs, stumbling after Nines. The android’s hand is already on the door by the time Gavin crowds into his personal space.

 

“The fuck, Nines? Get back here so I can suck you off, asshole,” he snaps.

 

He grasps Nines’ by his coat, intending on tugging him away from the door. Quicker than a blink, the android grabs the detective by his wrist, twists, and has the man falling to his knees with a cry of pain. With but another mere inch or so, Gavin knows Nines can break the bone, can apply just a bit more pressure to shatter it in his grip, and the thought is as terrifying as it is hot.

What is decidedly less hot is when Nines is dead set on not indulging Gavin and his fucked up need to flirt with death whenever he cums.

 

“I did not give you permission to touch me.”

 

There’s an imperceptible curling of the android’s wrist that Gavin feels more than he can see, a warning that has pain shooting up his arm.

 

“Yeah, well, you can’t just fucking walk out in the middle of sex!”

 

Nines releases him and Gavin hastily scrambles upright, ignoring the urge to rub his sore wrist. He can already see the splash of bruises peppering the skin, some darkening the burns left by the bindings.

 

“I gave you the terms of our coupling and you agreed to them. I am merely following the protocol that dictates a dom/sub sexual interaction.”

 

“I didn’t fucking mean ‘stop’,” Gavin says angrily. “And what kind of stupid, fucking safe word is that? Your own name? Jesus fucking Christ, Nines, how the fuck was I supposed to follow that?”

 

“You have had no issue identifying my unit as ‘Connor’ in the past.”

 

And the deadpan delivery sounds all that more vindictive as he says RK800’s name.

 

Gavin’s at a complete loss, doesn’t know how to respond to that, what that even means. He tries to utter something but is so dumbfounded, the most he manages is an expletive.

 

And with little more than a stiffening of his posture, Nines is out the door and shutting it quietly behind him.

 

For a long while, Gavin’s left standing naked and staring at it. Part of him is confused, another part of him angry, and yet a smaller side of him begins to feel the festering of something he refuses to acknowledge, something unsettling that’s been percolating like a slow acting poison in these moments of quiet rejection. It’s the repetition of a cycle Gavin’s growing more accustomed to but his long history with negligent partners who have treated him as nothing more than a piece of ass means he’s well equipped to deal with that sensation, bury it under all the baggage.

 

He’d sooner cut off one of his limbs than acknowledge there’s anything between him and Nines that can make him give a shit about what it means each time Nines walks out like this.

 

Muttering about _‘phcking androids’_ , he heads to the bathroom, ready to submerge himself beneath the shower head and wipe away the evidence of Nines’ touch from his skin.

 

* * *

 

There’s a pattern they fall into, about as predictable as Nines’ temper isn’t.

 

Nines can’t express anger any more through expression than he can in tone. So he’s found other ways to make his displeasure known and it manifests itself in purposeful neglect of Gavin’s needs.

 

When Nines is angry, Gavin knows the android won’t seek him out for the better part of a week. It’s become a form of conditioning, reinforcing preferable behavior to make Gavin more complacent, more compliant. And fuck him if it hasn’t been working spectacularly.

 

Such as now.

 

Gavin sits across from Nines, seated at his desk, fingers clicking across the keyboard. He keeps his eyes trained on the monitor but his focus periodically shifts to the android, pulse racing each time he indulges that temptation sitting in his peripheral. It’s been five days since Nines walked out, not even acknowledging what had transpired between them, leaving Gavin to stew miserably alone in his apartment over the weekend, wracking his brain for whatever the fuck he did wrong and then forcing himself to find distraction in shitty Youtube videos.

 

What a fucking waste when he could have been getting his dick sucked.

 

_Stop ignoring me, asshole,_ he silently pleads, knows it doesn’t fucking matter anyway.

 

Nines doesn’t like any part of their ‘recreational’ activities to affect their professional relationship. And Gavin learned the hard way last month how little patience the android has when he bitched at Nines for holding out on him while they were on a stake out.

 

He is not making that mistake again. Not if he wants to get fucked in the near future.

 

“The Brewsters’ incident report, Detective.”

 

It startles Gavin from his train of thought as he glances away from the monitor. In the space between them, Nines has extended his arm, waiting for Gavin to take the manila folder he’s offering. Grunting, the detective reaches for it, accidentally brushing his fingers against the android’s. The warmth of the touch makes something inside of him ache and he nearly fumbles the file in the hand off.

 

There’s a brief cycling of yellow before Nines’ LED returns to that infuriating calm blue.

 

“Please look over it and correct any inconsistencies you have undoubtedly reported in the document you are typing now,” Nines says.

 

_Touch me,_ Gavin wants to say.

 

“Whatever, roboprick,” he says instead, dropping the file unceremoniously beside the keyboard with no intention of opening it.

 

From the corner of his eye, he sees the telltale blip of red.

 

“Detective? Given my superior processing and the visual data I have cataloged from the crime scene, I strongly urge you to reconsider my suggestion.”

 

Gavin knows a veiled threat when he hears it. And grudgingly, he opens the folder because maybe if he plays nice, he’ll get fucked before Wednesday.

 

Manipulative mother fucker.

 

“...this is all the same shit I said,” Gavin grumbles, skimming the file. “Fucking waste of my—”

 

He colors as he notices something he misreported, attempts to cover it up by forcing a cough. He wastes another few minutes going through the file before nonchalantly discarding it as if it holds no interest. He swears he can see an almost smug straightening of Nines’ posture, who sits back ram rod in his chair.

 

Gavin has never wanted anyone as much as he wants Nines in that moment.

 

It’s become too much, this pretense, and Gavin’s own eyes betray him as they flicker from the monitor to the android’s face, settle on those soft lips he hasn’t tasted since _that night_ , the one that started all this shit five months ago.

 

And, much to Gavin’s horror, he realizes he misses how they had felt against his own.

 

_Kiss me_

 

He sits up so abruptly, he knocks over his chair.

 

“I need to take a piss,” he croaks out, face heating as he feels a few heads turn in his direction.

 

“No one cares, Reed,” someone says, probably Anderson.

 

Cool gray eyes glance up from the monitor and Gavin’s unraveling as they pick him apart, as he doesn’t doubt he’s receiving a full scan. Everything about his body language screams _fuck off_ while internally, he’s stricken with sudden _want,_ sudden _yearning_ , he has to storm off before his vitals give him away.

 

It’s not until he’s hunched over the bathroom sink, splashing cold water over his face, that he releases a long, shaky breath.

 

He doesn’t _want_ to kiss Nines.

 

He doesn’t.

 

“Fuck,” he grumbles, resting his forehead against the cool glass of the mirror, water dripping off his face.

 

_Fuck._

 

* * *

 

His lungs burn, the vice-like pressure on his throat tightening, vessels bursting beneath the long, white metallic fingers crushing his larynx. Gavin’s choking, his body screaming for air, tears trailing down the sides of his temples. His vision is fuzzy at the edges, hands bunched into the sheets beneath him, but all he sees is the cold, unfeeling gaze of the android moving above him, gray eyes always studying, always calculating.

 

Those are the eyes of someone— _something—_ that could very well kill him and the thought makes Gavin shudder with need as he’s being simultaneously choked and fucked into the bed springs.

 

Nines thrusts hard into him and just as Gavin feels his consciousness about to slip, struggles to hold on as his head spins from lack of oxygen, a burst of pleasure explodes inside of him and the detective is forced to swallow his own groans, body taut as ropes of white hot cum paint across his chest. The pressure on his throat relents minutely and he gasps what little air he can pull through his airway, the cold palm of Nines’ metallic hand sliding roughly against Gavin’s cock, yanking almost too viciously as he proceeds to milk the detective. Gavin’s eyes begin to slip shut, a hoarse whine erupting in his throat, when a monotonous command slips through the sensory overload: “Look at me.”

 

And Gavin obeys, stares into icy gray depths with his half-lidded gaze, the remaining hand on his throat slackening as Nines guides him through his orgasm. In that moment, his heart gives a treacherous thud, the unsettling detachment in the android’s eyes enthralling him in a way it shouldn’t. He’s pulled deeper under the control Nines exerts amid his self-defeating chaos, yearns and aches for everything Nines withholds from him. He _wants_ and it _hurts_ so he fights to prolong the result of their coupling, knows that the moment it stops, he will lose this temporary connection between them.

 

Almost as soon as the tremors subside, Nines pulls out, physically separates himself from Gavin even as his artificial cock remains full. Gavin’s left a limp, quivering mess on the bed as his diaphragm expands, greedily sucks in mouthfuls of air in rapid succession. Coming down is hard but it’s made even worse when Gavin has to do it alone, his sweat and spunk covered skin causing him to shiver in the coolness of the room.

 

He never has known the true feeling of emptiness as intensely as he experiences it each time he’s forced to stare at Nines’ backside while the android calmly begins to dress.

 

It doesn’t surprise him that Nines no longer attempts to achieve his equivalent of an orgasm: sex has become more physically mind-blowing than ever, each touch and thrust perfectly calculated with maximum efficiency to make the detective a whimpering, whining mess. Yet the android does not seem to derive any pleasure beyond whatever psychological high he gets knowing he has that much power over Gavin.

 

Rolling onto his side, Gavin tries to sit up on the edge of bed but is nearly knocked over with the sudden rush of going from horizontal to vertical. The fuzziness in his head has him forcing himself back up, the entire room temporarily slipping to black as he fights against the vertigo.

 

As to be expected, the flat reprimand comes almost immediately. “You should exercise caution. Erotic asphyxiation intensifies the effects of dopamine through the deprivation of oxygen. What you are feeling should not be conflated with the physical state you are currently in.”

 

“Yeah, no shit,” Gavin mutters hoarsely, swaying even as he sits up. He breathes in roughly, touches gingerly at the tender flesh of his neck. A thrill shoots down his spine at the thought of the bruises Nines has left on him.

 

His eyes flicker over to the RK unit, who has only just finished buttoning his shirt. The skin of his hands has returned and Gavin finds his gaze lingering on them as he imagines what it would feel like if they touched him with the same precision and care that the android employs while dressing. That longing that has only intensified the more cold Nines has become returns and yet Gavin’s too blissed out to even be angry with himself for wanting something as stupid as affection from a machine.

 

But for all Nines purports to want to play by the established practices of dom and sub relationships, the android has always denied Gavin aftercare. He won’t touch him, won’t praise him, won’t even look at him with anything but detached contempt once Gavin’s shot his load.

 

And Gavin’s been telling himself he doesn’t need the bullshit of gentle words or tender touches, especially from something that isn’t fucking human.

 

Now, more than ever, he sees it for the lie it is.

 

“H-hey, uh,” he starts, stands awkwardly to his feet.

 

Nines visibly stiffens.

 

There’s a warning in his gaze as Gavin attempts to approach. It’s still strange to him how Gavin has learned to read something incapable of mimicking human facial expressions.

 

He wisely stops after taking his second step.

 

“You, uh, wanna stay a bit?” Gavin asks, each word coming out rough and dry.

 

Nines tilts his head and there’s clear confusion in the blank look on his face. “Why would I do that?”

 

_Because I fucking want you to, dipshit_ , Gavin wishes he could say but knows he never would.

 

“Maybe I wanna get fucked later,” he answers instead.

 

The disapproval is immediate, a slight narrowing of the android’s eyes. “Given the intensity of our most recent intercourse, I would strongly advise against that, Detective.”

 

“Fuck sakes, I am not some old geezer. I can handle you, Tin Can.”

 

“While you often exhibit the mental capacity of someone considerably younger than your physical age, I would again caution against conflating your mental state with your physical condition.”

 

It takes Gavin’s tired brain a moment to realize he’s being insulted. Once he does, his lips curl in a sneer, “Fuck you, you plastic prick.”

 

“I would derive no enjoyment from such a scenario.”

 

The quip surprisingly stings, though Gavin’s not about to show Nines he’s affected by it. Even worse, the clear rejection is making him feel increasingly self-conscious. Nines is already placing his coat on, the odd swirling of yellow at his temple all the detective needs to let him know to proceed carefully.

 

“We could, uh...”

 

Words fail Gavin as not even he can come up with any more excuses.

 

That cold look is back in the android’s eyes. The quiet indifference he regards Gavin with leaves a hollow ache in the detective’s chest. “Good night, Detective.”

 

When the door clicks shut behind him, Gavin tells himself he’s fine. He tells himself it doesn’t fucking matter because what does a fucking machine know anyway? Nines is a good enough fuck and that’s all Gavin’s ever wanted.

 

But later, as he touches the deep purple marks on his neck, sees the miserable expression staring back at him in the bathroom mirror, he finally admits what he’s known for so long now:

 

It’s not.

 

* * *

 

The bullet comes so quickly, Gavin doesn’t have time to react: he’s staring death down the barrel, lips curling in defiance and it doesn’t matter that he’s scared shitless, he’s not about to give this asshole the satisfaction. There are worse ways to go and Gavin’s no stranger to challenging his own mortality.

 

What happens next, the detective will remember later in a series of sensations as opposed to images: the sound of the bullet piercing a target. The feel of Gavin’s heart stopping in his chest. The echo of knees hitting concrete.

 

Gavin stares, in silent horror, as Nines collapses, taking the bullet meant for him.

 

The active shooter is startled and that hesitation is all Gavin needs to take him out. He doesn’t miss.

 

The violent cacophony of the pounding in his chest has Gavin dropping in front of the android, a panic that seizes his lungs in an icy grip as blue spills from the wound in the android’s face. Nines tries to hold himself upright, eyes blinking rapidly, and Gavin’s throat is tight as thirium bleeds over the android’s left eye, spilling droplets off his lashes that paint the blank canvas of his cheek. Most of the freckles have disappeared beneath the blue lines streaking towards the android’s chin.

 

“N-Nines, y-you fucking...”

 

Gavin’s voice cracks. It fucking cracks like the weak piece of shit he is.

 

He swallows, roughly, about to add some crude dig at the android’s intellect when Nines says, “Y-your s-safety was my number one obj-jective.”

 

His voice crackles with static and before Gavin can retort about it being a shitty _fucking_ objective, the android’s eyes stop blinking, his LED stops spinning, and he falls forward into the detective’s chest. Gavin grasps him, trembling hands shaking him, but no amount of uttering, “Wake up, y-you stupid prick!” can get the android to come back online.

 

“N-Nines! For fuck sakes!”

 

The hysteria in his voice leaves his eyes stinging.

 

But he’s not about to cry over a fucking machine.

 

It’s less than an hour later, while Nines is being looked over by a technician, that Gavin finds himself fighting that same battle again, shaky fingers gripping his cigarette tightly. He inhales with a deep shudder, lets the smoke sit in his lungs, before he exhales and feels that familiar welling in his eyes.

 

_Was._ The android used the word ‘was’ in his final words.

 

Fucking asshole.

 

“You are distressed.”

 

Gavin jumps at the sound, sneers when he sees Connor standing not a yard from him, eyeing the detective with something of mistrust. There’s a wariness in his guarded expression and one thing that Gavin has always found captivating is that—unlike other androids—Connor struggles to keep his real feelings from showing on his face.

 

“Yeah, no shit,” Gavin snaps, the hitch in his voice making him internally wince. He adds, with even more venom, “Roboprick went and got himself shot in the god damn face.”

 

“Because of _your_ inability to properly survey the premises with an active shooter, I imagine,” Connor cuts back and the contempt in his tone is unmistakable.

 

Red flares at his temple.

 

Yeah, it was Gavin’s fault. He knows that. But he’s not about to own up to it.

 

“You got something to say, Tin Can, or you just here to piss me off?”

 

Connor deflates a little, though his usually warm eyes don’t lose their hard edge. “I wanted to check up on you. What you saw can be quite difficult for humans to process.”

 

_Was._

 

Gavin’s expression hardens. “If you’re expecting me to get all weepy for that asshole, you’re wasting your time. Fucking prick wants to jump in front of bullets, not my fucking business. So why don’t you fuck of—!”

 

He grunts painfully as he’s thrust against the side of the building, the cigarette falling from his fingers. Connor’s hands press his shoulders into the concrete, their grip bruising, as his mouth pulls in an angry snarl, “Let’s be clear of one thing: I don’t buy this act of yours, Detective. You can say whatever nonsense you want but I can detect the physiological changes you experience when you are with RK 900. I know how you _feel_ about him.”

 

“The fuck you think you know, you plastic piece of shit?!” Gavin snaps back, trying not to visibly cower as Connor’s fingers dig in harder. “Just because the dumb fucker has sucked me off a few times—”

 

“Gavin,” the android interrupts, his tone obnoxious, “I _know_. So you can stop the pretense.”

 

Gavin is stunned into silence, feels his glare begin to falter. The anger twisting Connor’s handsome features blur before his eyes, the only constant the red that bleeds into his peripheral.

 

“As he remains in an uncertain state of operation, the evident signs of grief you are going through are to be expected,” Connor continues, his grip on the detective finally beginning to ease.

 

The android leans in close and the detective imagines that if Connor had simulated breathing, he would feel exhales against his cheek. There’s no denying the visceral hatred in his voice as he whispers, “But he deserves _better_ than you.”

 

And the truth of each word pierces him with the intensity of a thousand cuts, a sinking shame that leaves his insides twisting with discomfort.

 

_You think I don’t know that!_ he could snap but he’s not gone this long in life without learning how to check himself before he impulsively voices his vulnerabilities.

 

He blinks away the evidence before they can spill his confession onto his cheeks, roughly shoves Connor off of him. The android merely steps back just enough to allow Gavin to slip past him.

 

“Alcohol won’t solve anything,” Connor says, guessing at which of his vices the detective is about to indulge.

 

Why should it fucking surprise him at this point?

 

“Never stopped me before,” Gavin calls back, flipping off the android.

 

He knows he should be there if— _when_ Nines is reactivated.

 

But he won’t.

 

* * *

 

“Gavin?”

 

He’s certain that he’s met with surprise, the circle of yellow a beacon that flares at Nines’ temple: _Proceed with caution._ But Gavin’s never been one to adhere to a warning, having thrown caution to the wind as surely as he tossed back those last three shots of whiskey.

 

“Nines,” he slurs, shuffling into the android’s apartment uninvited.

 

He’s half surprised the android lets him, though his hand remains on the handle of the door even as he sidesteps to avoid Gavin colliding into him. Gavin’s no idiot—doesn’t need the clarity of sobriety to know there’s a reason that door remains open.

 

“What are you doing here, Gavin?”

 

There’s a long moment where Gavin remains standing in the entrance of the sparsely furnished apartment, shifting his weight between his two feet. He sways, catches himself by placing an unsteady hand on the wall, the words reaching his ears but not quite his brain. He struggles to focus, tries to remember why he’s not at the bar anymore, flits his gaze up to those gray eyes that seem to chase away the last of his good sense.

 

_RK900 is back online_ , Connor had texted him earlier.

 

Gavin’s sure there had been judgment for his absence but it seems the android was through with antagonizing him for one night.

 

“Nines...”

 

He reaches out to grasp the android’s arm but Nines merely steps out of Gavin’s reach.

 

“I’ll ask again, Detective,” Nines says. And Gavin doesn’t miss the crackle of static, uncertainty echoed in distortion, “what are you doing here?”

 

Gavin looks at his extended hand. And all he sees is blue, cold thirium dripping off the tips of his fingers, pooling on the pristine hardwood beneath his feet. He hears the sound of the gunshot, the one meant for _him,_ as it strikes its unintended target.

 

...Nines falling to his knees...

 

He blinks away the horror that’s met him all evening, that not even alcohol can chase off, each time he closes his eyes. He tries to answer, to say _something,_ and utters an unintelligible sound.

 

His hand falls limply to his side.

 

“Can’t a guy check up on his prick of a partner?” Gavin mumbles.

 

He attempts to push off the wall but experiences something akin to vertigo, nearly trips into the wall as he places his hand back on it. The room is spinning—everything is moving so fast. How the fuck did he make it from the cab up to the 7th floor?

 

“You’re drunk.”

 

“Yeah, no shit.”

 

Nines gives a forced huff. “We have work in the morning. This is hardly productive behavior.”

 

“Yeah, well neither is getting shot!”

 

And much to his disgust, Gavin feels that sensation creeping on him again, that prickling that lurks in the corner of his vision. He blinks, looks down at the floor, pretends his voice hadn’t just cracked with everything that remains unsaid.

 

He shouldn’t give a shit.

 

He doesn’t.

 

...then why the fuck is he here?

 

“Detective – I was shot. I am operating at optimal capacity,” Nines answers, each word delivered in that clear, fucking monotone because Nines is a fucking _machine_ and _machines can’t feel_ and when did Gavin stop believing this? “I understand that witnessing such an incident may be traumatic for humans—”

 

“No fucking shit—”

 

“—but I completed a full maintenance check and have received affirmation that I may return to duty immediately.” And though Nines can’t sound annoyed, Gavin can just tell that he is. “So now that you have visual confirmation that I am in working condition, I strongly suggest that you return home, consume a few glasses of water, and get some rest. I will not have our work day be disrupted because of your ill-gotten decision to induce inebriation.”

 

It’s no different than the apathy Nines has treated him with since their argument in the DPD parking lot. Gavin used to believe Nines was incapable of emotion and he never knew how true that was until his partner stopped trying to be nice to him. Since then, it’s as if there’s this brick wall between them that grows higher and thicker with each exchange and Gavin knows he’s the one that put that there.

 

He’s the one who made Nines like _this._

 

As he stews in his revelation, he hardly notices the glass of water Nines pushes into his hand. But there’s nothing tender about the gesture – it’s simply Nines providing a solution a problem.

 

“Drink this,” he orders and Gavin does, throwing back most of it in one gulp. He sputters on the remainder, drops trickling down his chin and he swears he notices a hesitation _,_ Nines’ hand beginning to lift, but then the android’s averting his cool gaze, takes the now empty glass from Gavin.

 

The lingering sensation of his fingers grazing against Gavin’s feels so wonderful, it makes something throb dully in the detective’s chest.

 

“Unless there is anything work relevant that you wish to inquire about, I will contact a cab for you,” Nines says, placing the glass on a nearby counter.

 

“You said my safety was your number one objective,” Gavin blurts, the last word slurring to near incomprehension.

 

Nines pauses, the stiff twisting of his head giving away how taken aback he is by the statement. Three red flashes flare in quick succession before his LED whirls back to a steady yellow. “I do not recall what had occurred from when the bullet damaged my central processor up to my emergency shut down. If that is indeed what I had said, it is correct: your safety remains my primary objective, as it is with all android units who work with a human companion.”

 

Disappointment has the detective falling into an uneasy silence. Even this one act, which he had hoped could represent _something_ as he had drowned his denial with whiskey, can be deduced to a function as part of the android’s programming.

 

“...you said ‘was’,” he adds, quietly.

 

Red. Red. Red. Yellow.

 

“I had not been able to properly assess the damage and chose a tense more apt, should I no longer be operational.”

 

Gavin stares dejectedly at the floor.

 

“If that is all, Detective, I think it is time you return home to rest.” Nines lingers in the space that separates the entrance from the kitchenette, his gaze flitting pointedly to the open door. “Door’s over there.”

 

Each word is spoken with the same cool neutrality that Gavin had said them with five months before, when it was him kicking Nines out, convincing himself that it’s what he wanted, that he couldn’t give two shits how much of an asshole he was being.

 

Having the same shit happen to you? Well, it really, fucking _hurts._

 

Gavin swallows, stares blearily at the door, then back at Nines. There’s a quiet judgment in those eyes that makes Gavin feel, more and more, that somehow, he’s made an ass of himself.

 

_This is the shit I get for caring,_ he thinks, bitterly.

 

But that’s not quite right: Nines _cared_ and look what that got him? A couple of facials and Gavin throwing himself at the first non-synthetic dick he could find.

 

“ _And that’s what this shit means to me: nothing.”_

 

So that is how Nines is treating him now: like he is _nothing._ The same way Gavin treated _him._

 

And isn’t this what Gavin wanted?

 

“Fuck, whatever,” Gavin snaps, stumbling towards the door. He’s too fucking old to be reevaluating his feelings towards a walking pile of wires and bolts.

 

He grips the door handle, mostly to correct his balance but also because he intends on slamming it as he makes his exit. He hopes the callous fuck’s audio components ring with discomfort from the fucking sound. If Nines wants to be a cold-hearted prick, well, Gavin’s got him beat because he’s been doing this long before dipshit’s components were even being assembled in a lab.

 

But as he goes to storm out, a voice in his head rings clearer than his rage-fueled humiliation.

 

_Coward_

 

Gavin’s one foot out of the door.

 

_You god damn, fucking coward._

 

And Gavin _stops._

 

“...Detective?”

 

He sees the way the word forms on the android’s lips and Gavin is struck with need that not even his pride can bury beneath the layers of emotional baggage. He’s wanted – fuck, he’s simply _wanted_ – for so long that to deny himself any longer would be akin to etching violence into his own flesh.

 

“Fuck it; I made it this far,” he mutters, mostly to himself.

 

He shuts the door, sees red beeping at Nines’ temple but Gavin’s already closing the space between them, unsteady legs barely keeping him upright. He’s too drunk, everything’s spinning so fast as his feet slip from under him but then he’s falling into a pair of arms that wrap securely around him, and everything is flashing red.

 

“Gav—”

 

Those lips he’s not tasted for so long – too fucking long – are his as Gavin throws his arms around Nines’ neck, leans up and presses their mouths together. The android’s taken by surprise, unable to respond, but Gavin’s showing him how, as he had the last time he had him like this, his weight and persistence making Nines step back so Gavin can pin him to the door. The sound Gavin makes is something of a whine, insistent tongue teasing Nines’ lower lip and fuck, Gavin’s forgotten Nines is a shitty kisser—like, really fucking shitty—and Gavin half expects the android to deny him, but then those lips part and he’s stroking his tongue against his and it doesn’t matter how fucking inexperienced Nines is, it feels fucking amazing.

 

“Nines,” Gavin’s gasping against his mouth, his own chin wet with drool and the android’s thirium-laced saliva. “Fuck, _Nines._ ”

 

He kisses him again. And keeps kissing him, only belatedly noting that the hesitant slide of the android’s tongue against his is making his toes curl, has blood rushing below his waist. But for once, Gavin couldn’t give two shits about what his dick wants because this is what he’s needed and he’s greedily taking what Nines will give him, though he knows he doesn’t deserve any of it.

 

“Detective,” Nines says and Gavin tries to surge up for another kiss, sloppily only gets the corner of the android’s mouth. “Detective...stop.”

 

There’s a firm grip on his shoulder, pushing Gavin back a step but keeping him upright. Gavin slurs something—fuck if he knows what—and tries to step back into Nines’ personal space but it’s like a gust of wind trying to knock over a brick wall. He ain’t fucking moving.

 

“You are drunk, Detective,” the android says, slowing his speech to say each word clearly. “And given your history of poor decision making when under the influence of alcohol, I believe it is in both our best interests if we stop.”

 

“So, what? You kicking me out?”

 

“Was I unclear when I informed you earlier there will be a cab arriving for you?”

 

The rejection hits Gavin like a bucket of ice water and comes so unexpectedly, he’s unable to keep the hurt from showing on his face, feels his cheeks heat with a different kind of humiliation, one that has him sinking into himself.

 

The hand on his shoulder relaxes and Gavin doesn’t want to expose any more of himself than he already has but he does so anyway, lifting his pained eyes to stare into the conflict he can see raging in stormy gray. He reads it immediately, the helpless confusion that is somehow present on that impassive face.

 

“I don’t understand what it is you want from me,” Nines admits, quietly.

 

There’s a question in that statement. And it shouldn’t anger him but it does, because Gavin’s already put himself out there and Nines has already tried to kick him out twice tonight.

 

“Jesus fucking Christ, do I have to spell it out for you? You’re a god damn detective, how the fuck have you not figured it out?”

 

Nines tilts his head, eyes flickering across Gavin’s hot face. The android is waiting for clarification and Gavin knows the word is there, that it’s something he told himself he’d never say again, something he knows has never been uttered without a price. He knows what to say—what he _should_ say—but he hasn’t consumed enough liquid courage to even attempt it.

 

What he ends up saying is no less honest.

 

“I want _you,_ Nines,” Gavin whispers, dropping his gaze. He doesn’t want to see the inevitable rejection that will be written on that handsome face. “Not some fucked up version of you pretending to not give a shit. I’m so god damn sick of always fucking pretending.”

 

And throughout all of this, the android’s LED has not stopped spinning red, its red light filling the dark entrance.

 

“Fuck, I...I just want _you_.”

 

The confession is said so quietly, he wonders if he’s said it at all. His hands are trembling at his sides so he fists them, releases a shaky breath to steady the chaotic pounding of his heart.

 

_I’m fucking in love with you_

 

Nines still hasn’t said anything. And with sinking dread, Gavin knows there’s a reason. But he still finds the courage to lift his gaze, to stare into the muted grays of Nines’ eyes. And in that moment, he understands the appeal of a summer storm, struck by beauty like a clap of thunder in something he had once thought so cold and distant.

 

The red at the android’s temple is no longer spinning but blinking rapidly. There’s so much swimming in his eyes and his eyes and brows are attempting to pull into an expression the android is unable to make. His hand twitches and Gavin can see it, that hesitation once more, as Nines is trapped between indecision.

 

_Please_

 

So Gavin begins to reach out, fingers ghosting against the android’s.

 

And then, it’s as if something snaps in Nines’ demeanor.

 

His posture stiffens, gaze cold, and maneuvers around Gavin to open the door. The slow creak of it makes something cold settle in the pit of the Gavin’s stomach. “I have just received a notification that the taxi has arrived.”

 

The clear dismissal numbs Gavin and he can’t bring himself to say anything bitter, can’t even bring himself to beg. He accepts it with quiet defeat, shuffling on his unsteady legs, blinking rapidly to keep his embarrassment from dripping off his lashes. He walks past Nines and Nines can’t even fucking look at him but Gavin knows he’d break if the android met his eyes.

 

“Have a good evening, Gavin.”

 

Each word pierces him like a knife in the back, the empty platitude echoing in the silence of the hallway. Gavin grunts, not trusting himself to speak, not even certain what he would say if he could. The finality of the door clicking shut behind him shatters something inside of him Gavin hadn’t thought he had enough left to shatter.

 

The ride home is uneventful. The self-driving cab has already received his destination so all Gavin has to do is sit in the back and hold down the discomforting lurch in his stomach every time the vehicle makes a turn. There’s the quiet pattering of rain on the window and Gavin watches, distantly, as the raindrops bleed in streams across the clear surface.

 

He doesn’t know how he makes it up to his own apartment, doesn’t recall much beyond the sting of acid burning in his throat as he hurls up most of what he consumed that night. Tears burn in his eyes and it’s easy to tell himself it’s from the vomit as he dry heaves into the porcelain bowl, gasps and drops his head on the seat.

 

Fuck...just fuck.

 

He sniffles, swipes the back of his hand across his mouth.

 

His phone vibrates where he left it on the counter.

 

He’s tempted to ignore it because who the fuck would be messaging him at 3 in the fucking morning but the answer to that is usually work. And fuck, he’s not in the mood for the awkward shit that would follow if him and his partner are called to a crime scene but he’s also not one to neglect the call of duty.

 

Despondently, he grabs his phone.

 

His heart plummets when he sees who it is.

 

[Roboprick – 03:14]

_The Taxicab services have informed me that you reached your destination without incident. I hope you made it into your apartment without injuring yourself._

 

[Roboprick – 03: 15]

_Regarding what you said earlier, I have consulted multiple online databases and have found that there is no simple way to convey this. Please do not mistake my lack of reciprocity as apathy towards your well being. It is because I respect our professional relationship that I must terminate our personal arrangement going forward. I believe this will benefit us both._

 

To his mortification, Gavin feels a giant tear drip off his lashes. His vision clouds as he scrolls through the rest of the messages.

 

[Roboprick – 03:16]

_I care very much for our continued professional relationship and hope that we can put these last few months behind us._

 

He places the phone on the floor beside him, propped against the toilet, tears spilling in silence down his cheeks. He tells himself he doesn’t care, but he knows that it’s a lie, feels it with each pained convulsion in his chest as he swallows to keep the sobs at bay, sniffles pitifully and stares with blurred eyes at the old, cracked tile. His fingers curl around his phone.

 

“ _You are mine, Gavin Reed.”_

 

What a fucking lie that was.

 

With an angry sob, Gavin flings his phone at the wall, cracks splintering across the screen. Still, the display flickers, the last message Nines sent him haunting him as he curls up on the bathroom floor.


End file.
